Wanderlust: To Ashes
by Maleficarum
Summary: [some intense language] This isn't your average story: there's no Courier 6 or Lone Wanderer on the frontlines - there's a young girl thrown into a world she's never known. Jaime was taken from a young age and thrown into an affluent life in New Vegas, but she knows it's all a lie. She wants to leave; to adventure...to achieve. But can she even survive out the front doors?


The Mojave Desert stretched far beyond the horizon's view. Shimmering in the distance, she could see the wavering outline of New Vegas. A broken overpass stretched above it, and below were dotted farms and houses. High above in the sky sat the white, hot sun. Her eyes cringed at the bright light, but there was no refuge from the Nevada heat. Beside her, her father and mother sat by the fire and compiled a makeshift fire pit. The girl sat away from them, her back to her parents and her gaze flitting all around the sights of New Vegas. At night, Lucky 38's and all of the other casinos would light up the sky; like their own constellation of stars. It was her favorite part about living in their nomadic lifestyle: The sights.

"Jaimes, comin' help yer momma and me with this here fire, would ya," her dad asked. The girl turned around suddenly. "An stop lookin' at the Strip, ya hear? We ain't gonna go there, kid. We ain't got the caps or the passes."

The child hung her head as she kicked the ground on her way to the pit. Her mom stood up abruptly, pursing her lips and slapping her husband's arm. She chastised him with a bitter look, which made the man throw up his hands in surrender. The young girl studied her parents as they squabbled, like usual. However, it wasn't very usual. Her mother never spoke; it wasn't that she wasn't able to, but something caused her mother to keep her voice low and her eyes open. She communicated with hand signals or with a mumbled voice if she really had to. Aside from a 'missing' voice, her mother was extremely gorgeous. She had tight blonde curls, which almost always escaped from even the tightest ponytails. She had glittering blue eyes, and a flushed face; a row of freckles sloping down her cheeks and across her nose to kiss in the middle. Her father was similarly gorgeous, or might have been at one point, if he wasn't disfigured by a big, fat and ugly scar that massacred diagonally his face from brow to chin. He had dark brown, curly hair that receded slightly from his hairline, and big, green eyes. The rest of his body was covered in nasty reminders of the past he'd had, and the worst one was the faint white line that streaked across his throat from ear to ear. The worst reminder.

Similar to both, Jaime had light colored eyes. She had her mother's hair but a more subtle beauty, and her father's sturdy build and strong jaw. For the most part, she took after her mother's silence and spoke less than often. She wasn't a mute, like her mother, but she liked to respect the condition her mother suffered from. Younger, she fared more toward the shy nature and innocent grace. As she grew older, however, she became more stubborn and bull-headed, just like her father.

Speaking of father, his silent argument with Jaime's mom had ended quickly and he dragged himself over to his absent minded child. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed a few times protectively. "Listen kid, I'm sorry thata' snapped at you. Do momma and me a favor and find some dry bush, yeah? Dun go too far though. Can't find any within eyesight of momma and me? Just head on back darl and I'll switch with you. Deal?" He asked hopefully in his scratchy baritone. Jaime knew that her father had come from a troubled childhood in some deep back road of the south (but didn't most people living in this awful world?) and that he was awful with making healthy communication, so for the most part she tried her best to not let his sharp tone get to her.

Her eyes flickered to her mom by the fire, who gave her a short nod. Jaime looked back up at her father, and nodded like her mom had. Her dad grinned, making the scar wrinkle and compress through every tensed muscle and feature. Her ruffled her short hair and made back to the pit.

Jaime and her parents had been traveling the Mojave Desert for as long as Jaime had been alive. It was all she remembered: travelling. Motel to motel and friendly face to hostile glare, Jaime knew many people that were in scattered civilizations dotting the Wastes. She figured that her family had been everywhere and stepped on every grain of sand…but apparently that wasn't the case. She had never once been taken to the New Vegas Strip by her family. It was one area that they never ventured into; not only did the family not have any passports, but they didn't have the right caps to pay for the tax or to buy that passport. Regardless, it was Jaime's dream to make it to the Strip. Within a few days they'd be in Freeside, looking for a job, but never any further.

Remembering her father's suggestion, Jaime took to keeping her eyes peeled for the patches of dry bush. She walked along, kicking stones out of the way for the hell of it. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets, and she fingered the holes to scratch her dry skin. Jamie licked her lips, the slightest of relief against the warm wind blowing at her. It wasn't nighttime yet, so the heat still blistered through the day. Once night fell, however…Well, Jaime was glad that she was out looking for kindling.

* * *

"Psst."

Jamie's head jerked up and she gasped quietly, looking around. The voice was close by, yet felt far. She didn't bother to call out, and instead lifted out her hand to lightly touch the small blade she kept at her waist. Her Dad didn't let her carry a gun yet, but it mostly from the quiet coaxing of her mother that Jaime needed more training. _Man, I wish I'd been trained earlier…_ Jaime thought, roughly biting her lips as she slid down the little hill.

Sand clouded around her feet, rising as she plopped down and surveyed the sights. There was no one and nothing in sight. Behind her there was the shape of her mother and father at the pit. Still, she could see them, and figured that she hadn't gone out of 'bounds'. Jaime took to a small crouch, this time extracting her knife from her waistband and flicking it out. She edged along, going straight for a while.

"Pssst. Hey, kid! Over here!" The voice said, and Jaime jumped. Further way, down another little hill and near to the train tracks there was indeed a figure, waving limply. Or was it two? "Come'on!"

Jaime looked over her shoulder hesitantly, pouting as she saw her father was occupied and somewhere else. It was just her mother's dull shape she saw, looking down and doing something. Jamie nodded to herself, because she could _still_ see her mom. Jamie looked back at the waving figure and hurried to a run when she heard a strangled call.

Coming onto the figure, it started to grow features and look like something giant and humanoid. It wasn't a ghoul, and it wasn't a Super Mutant. Jamie felt relieved. Her knife was still tight in her hand, however, as she slowed to a sashay toward the man and woman. The man was tall and broad, with a chest so wide it looked like a barrel. He had a chiseled face, something that akin to the old statues Jamie and her family had come across while looting a roadside museum. His hair was a bleached blonde; nearly white, and his eyes were…strange. One was blue and one was green.

The woman beside him was tall as well, with long tanned legs and a faded pink and yellow dress. She had a mass of sandy curls, tangling into her face and casting a shadow over her dark, brown eyes. For a moment, Jaime was reminded of her mother's own looks. The woman was smoking a cigarette, and sitting on a rock. The man continued to wave Jamie toward him until she was standing about three feet in front of him. He also had a cigarette in his mouth.

"Say kid, thanks for showing. You're doin me a real honor by stopping and offering some help. You like to help, don't ya kid?" He asked and Jaime slowly nodded. The man grinned like a wild animal.

"Say, that's good kid. Real good. So, I gotta problem, me and my broad here. We've been traveling for days, weeks maybe! And we've been tryin to head to the Strip – I got some friends there that are _urgently_ , and may I repeat _urgently_ , waiting for me to return. Big business deal. But, here's the problem kid – we're dirt poor. Got robbed a town back by these goons in leather-" The man gestured broadly with his hands, with very inventive expressions. He was wearing an impeccable suit, though dirtied by the nasty sands of the Mojave. The woman next to him, Jaime noted, was wearing similarly nice clothes.

Exiting from Freeside some years back, Jamie remembered seeing guys like him coming from the Strip gate. They were loud and callow and talked in that weird pattern of speech. Jamie hadn't liked them particularly back then, and especially didn't know. One of the men had whistled at her mom for walking by, which made the husband overtly pissed. It took her mother and Jaime's coaxing expression to get him to calm down. Even then, the men had found it hilarious.

"-An' I says, 'Can't stay pal, but I'll swing by with my boys next time!' and he says, 'that's mighty fine sir, but promise you won't be bringing a gun!' And you know what I did kid?" The man asked, slowly bending to meet Jaime's eyes. Jaime held her breath, refusing to blink. She counted every shuddering breath that man took, feeling very regretful that she hadn't listened to his story. "I says, 'You betcha.'"

The man laughed loudly, making Jaime jump a bit. He swung with laughter, his whole body a prisoner to his humor. She saw the gun, a flash of silver, and it made her blood go cold.

Jaime looked over her shoulder, and couldn't see her mother or father anymore.

"Anyways kid, moral is we're shit outta luck and needa get to Vegas. Anyway can you help a guy out? It'd be real platinum of you kiddo." He said, his wolfish white teeth gleaming. Jaime gulped and shook her head slowly. The man's eyes crinkled and his brow furrowed. He popped back up, massaging his jaw and shaking his head as he paced.

"That's not gonna work baby, that's really not gonna work. I suppose you ain't got no caps on ya, and that's fine. But you're a young baby aren't ya? Just a suckled toddler. Where's your parents girlie? Are they quiet like you? It's a little unnerving…" The man chuckled to himself, eyeing Jamie from head to toe. The woman behind him, Jaime now noticed, had a shaking hand as she inhaled from her cigarette. This was all wrong to the young girl, and she really wished she could run away now. But that man had a gun, and what he had planned on doing with it she didn't know. Being on his bad side, by running away from his big mouth, wasn't a good way of expecting a positive outcome with the gun.

Jamie opened her mouth to speak, her words coming out like a croak. "I-I haven't got any p-parents, mister." She whispered. The man stopped, gazing coldly at her.

"So you do speak, huh? Well, where's your parents?" He crouched back down to Jaime's height.

"I s-said… I haven't got none mister. I'm by myself." Jamie avoided eye contact and the man shook his head. His hand struck out like a snake and gripped the young girl by her chin. He forced her to look at him, and suddenly the cold tip of the pistol was pressed under her shirt and against her stomach. Jamie's eyes widened and she sucked in her breath. Tears began to brim in her eyes.

"I don't like lying kiddo. I don't like it from big old bitches, or little shrimps like yourself. I'm not afraid of goin to hell little girl. Can't you tell? We're already in it." The man hissed, pressing the gun closer to Jamie's stomach. She cried out soundly, trying to jerk her head away. The man tightened his grip on her chin, causing branches of pain to whiten her face.

"P-Please Mister, I…Oh!" Jamie sobbed, continuing to struggle. "I'm just a little girl mister, please mister. Please let go of me!"

The woman that sat next to the man shifted restlessly, tossing her legs over the other again and again. She kept looking at Jaime with a fearful expression, and something of dread at the man. She sucked in a breath and then stood up, tossing the cigarette to the ground. Her doubtful face shifted into a masked air of confidence as she strolled over. "Hollis, why're you bullying this poor kid here? She's a fucking shrimp, just like you said, she don't got anything."

Hollis's eye twitched, and he jerked Jaime and the gun around to face the woman. The gun slithered from stomach to pressing against the side of Jaime's neck. The young girl shivered and sobbed again. He shoved the gun harder, and her cries were silenced. The man shook his head, glaring up at the woman. "Did I ask for your opinion, you stupid fucking quin? I'll do what I want, and kill who I want. Geddit?"

The woman snatched the cigarette from Hollis and threw it on the ground. "But I'm not some stupid fucking quin, am I? You're a coward, you know? Threatening to kill a little girl? She's innocent." Hollis growled and slid the gun from Jaime's neck to be aimed straight at the woman. Her eyes flickered.

"Don't. Call. Me. Coward. I'm a fucking-"

"Yeah. We know," the woman hissed. "Do what you were told to do, Hollis McCreed. This ain't the job and you know it. Stop scaring the poor kid and get your ass in gear."

Hollis was still for a moment, contemplating.

He opened his mouth to speak, when there was a deep cry from the distance. "JAIMES!"

Hollis whirled around, throwing Jaime to the ground. He peered and saw in the fading light, a man running toward them and shooting with his hunting rifle. Hollis turned sheet white and turned back to the woman and Jaime. "Take the kid. We're getting out of here now-" He looked down at Jaime. "I'ms guessing that's your daddio kid. Let's Scramsville, or your pop's gonna be toast." Hollis jerked Jaime to her feet and roughly tossed her forward, hitting her with the gun when she resisted to run. Hollis turned on his heels as he ran, firing shots at Jaime's dad.

Jaime shrieked loudly, mostly in confusion. She refused to move, hoping to God that her father would swoop in and save her like he always did. She turned around once, tears brimming in her eyes. The woman roughly grabbed Jaime's hand as they ran, helping her along to avoid the blunt edge of Hollis' anger.

 _Bang! Bang!_

Jaime squeezed the woman's hand tighter as she ran. "Hey girlie, you're Jaimes, right? My name's Jules." The woman said.

 _Bang! Pop! Bang!_

The shouts continued, mostly from Jaime's father screaming out her name. Jaime sobbed violently as she ran, stumbling and only being held afloat by the woman's grip. Jules forced the child to run, all the while talking to her: "Listen, darl, I'm sorry that Hol's picked you. I'll...I'll be honest. We didn't need no money. We're swimming in caps, so to say. But Hol...he...you've got a purpose. I can't tell you exactly what - that bastard'd chop my head off real fast if I said anything- but...but you aren't a coincidence."

 _Pop!_

There was one final shot, and then a faint and dull thud. Hollis came from behind the girls and scooped Jaime up, throwing her over his shoulder. Jaime shoved her fist in her mouth as she wailed, fighting the man all the while. In the distance, Jaime could see a fallen figure in the sands. From behind came a smaller figure, stumbling and tumbling as she fought to the fallen man. It was her mother. Jaime screamed out, but Hollis roughly through her to the ground. He pulled out a rope Jaime didn't know that he had and started to bind her wrists. She lay on the ground, squirming and writhing as hot dears slid down the side of her face. Jaime turned her head and saw the figure, her mother, slide to the ground.

"You lied! You lied! You said you wouldn't if we ran! I RAN! You ought to be ashamed! You nasty, vagrant piece of-" Jaime choked on her own tears as she screamed, her face turning red and the veins in her neck and face popping out. Hollis growled and barked some nasty insult to the young girl, backhanding her twice. She fell silent immediately. Jaime saw stars, and her eyes rolled around as she fought the pain blooming in her face.

Then, her mother screamed. A violent, crushing sound of a heart breaking shattered Jaime's ears. At her feet, Jules had her own type of rope and began to bind Jaime's legs. Hollis and Jules began to argue with each other.

Rather than fight it, Jaime felt all the hope sag out of her. The stress of it all numbed her entirely.

She tossed her head, staring over the stretch of sand. Hollis lifted her and carted her over his shoulder again.

Then she never looked back.


End file.
